CHAPTER XXII

JORDANA’S DEATH

“One of my worst disputes with Jordana,” said the Sherif, “was concerning some of his police from the neighbourhood of Larache, who had attacked a farm on my land and murdered one of the owners. This was a case of thieving. The men left all their clothes under a convenient bush and rubbed their bodies with oil so that they could not be held. They came at night to the farm, naked, but with their rifles in their hands, for they knew that the farmer had lately sold his grain and had the price of it still in his house. A boy saw their approach and gave the alarm. There were but two tribesmen in the place, and one was shot as he laid hands on his rifle. The other would have fought, but they overpowered him and demanded where the money was. He would not speak, so they lit a fire and put his feet into it, but still he was mute. He would have died under their tortures, but that one of them discovered the money at the bottom of an old sack. They waited to add a few more blows to the injuries the tribesman had already received, then fled with their booty.

“It is difficult to keep a thing secret in Morocco, and it was soon known who were the criminals, but justice was laggard, so I ordered el Mudden to fetch me the bandits. This was not difficult, for there is nothing more ready[85] than the hand of a policeman when he hears the chink of money! The robbers were sent to patrol a certain road, and el Mudden was waiting for them, but it was a short fight. I imprisoned them in chains at Tazrut, waiting their sentence, and I sent an account of the matter to Jordana. He insisted that they were employees of Spain and liable only in her courts. I retorted that, by the pact of Khotot, it had been agreed I alone should be responsible for the people living on my properties. He answered that there was no evidence against the men, and demanded their immediate release. I answered, ‘It shall be as you wish, because of the friendship which is between us and because my desire is to serve Spain in all ways,’ but, before I released the men, I cut off the right hand of each, as a lesson that my people were not to be molested, and I said to them, ‘I have shown you great mercy, because of the intercession of the Governor, but your heads are still loose upon your shoulders. Take care that you do nothing to lose them.’

“When he heard what had happened, Jordana wrote to me angrily, accusing me of barbarity and injustice, but I replied, ‘Their lives were in my hand, for they were murderers. In justice I should have beheaded them, for this is our law. How could I rule my people, if it were known that I could not protect them? I have shown mercy, as you desired, and if, as you say, one of the men has died, it is the Will of Allah.’”

This affair was typical of the many which disturbed the relationship between the High Commissioner and Raisuli. Jordana was a man whose patriotism was only equalled by his nervous sensitiveness. He came to Morocco aware of the mistakes of his predecessors and determined that Spain should present a united front before the Moors. Convinced of the importance to his country of the turbulent colony he was sent to rule, but hampered on all sides by criticism, distrust and the kaleidoscopic changes which marked the foreign policy of his Government, he decided that an alliance with Raisuli was the only way of stabilising the situation. He realised that the original occupation of Larache and Al Kasr was due to the influence of the Sherif, and he hoped that, with this once again on his side, further peaceful penetration would be possible. What he did not understand was that the Arab rarely forgets or forgives, and that these qualities would be essential on the part of both Spain and Raisuli.

It is obvious from his correspondence that he regarded the Peace of Khotot, with its rigid demarcation of zones, as but the first step to a better understanding which would open up the country for material development. His disappointment was great when he realised that, not only were the mountains finally closed to Europeans, but that the Sherif was fulfilling only the minimum of his promises with regard to the coastal districts. The Tangier-Tetuan road was nominally occupied, but no stranger might use it without a pass from Raisuli. Roads came to an end as soon as they neared the hills, because of the mysterious difficulty of procuring labour. The water supply of Tetuan remained inadequate, because Raisuli refused to allow the construction of an aqueduct from the mountains. The railway from Ceuta to Tetuan stuck at a certain bridge, on account of inexplicable disturbances. Whenever the Spaniards wished to occupy posts essential for the protection of the main road, the Sherif protested that such a step would rouse the dormant hostility of the tribesmen, alert for a recrudescence of war. In fact, Jordana found himself struggling against well-organised, but passive, resistance.

It is certain that, during the war, Raisuli played a waiting game. The Spaniards say that only their influence prevented him from entering the lists against France. This is unlikely, for the Sherif’s policy was one of consistent neutrality in order that he might be able to secure good terms from whichever side won. Doubtless some of the German money which poured into Morocco found its way into the Sherif’s coffers, but he was too astute to commit himself to any definite aggression. As his power grew among the tribes, and with Arabs no propaganda is more popular than a display of force and prosperity, the Sherif used the powerful weapon which Jordana had unwittingly put into his hand.

Whenever his autocratic actions were questioned, he hinted at the possibility of a rupture, and the High Commissioner, interpreting such a possibility as the seal set on his failure, renewed his endeavours to propitiate. If it was an undignified situation, it was the result of Jordana’s passionate desire to serve the interests of his country, without costing her blood or money. The alternatives with which he was faced when he arrived in Tetuan seemed to him equally disastrous. They consisted in the evacuation of the country, which would be followed by the triumphal entry of France and the total loss of Spanish prestige, or a war which, judging by the fruitless efforts of his predecessors, he believed would have to be one of extermination.

He was tempted to take the middle course and the most distasteful to him. He forced himself to labour with a persistent patience wholly at variance to his nature, towards a solution which, though humiliating to his pride, would satisfy the conflicting interests in Madrid. Towards the end of 1918 he found that Raisuli was in the position of dictator, while the High Commissioner was regarded as a puppet. Under insistent orders against interference with the natives, inefficiency and laxity were rife among all classes of officials. In fact, the prestige of Spain, which Jordana hoped to vindicate at the cost of his own opinions, had been persistently lowered by giving way to the exigencies of the Sherif and his horde of deputies.

In one of the most pathetic letters ever written by a great pro-consul to his Government, Jordana traced his course of action from its initiation and, acknowledged that he had, himself, undermined the road “which led to the forbidden mountains,” foreshadowed the possibility of that rupture which would prove how unprofitable had been his years of conciliation. With a hand that shook, he signed the long document, and the pages bear repetitive evidence of a mind strained beyond endurance. Then, dropping the pen, he fell forward over the table and died while the ink of his apologia was still wet!

“The news of Jordana’s death was brought to me at Tazrut,” said Raisuli, “and I was certain that this would mean the end of my relations with Spain, for I had been watching the course of politics, and the Madrid press was clamouring for change. I returned to my camp and at once offered to give up the arms and ammunition entrusted to me for the duration of the campaign against the rebel tribes. My offer was refused, and I was assured that there was no alteration in the attitude of Spain. Messengers came to me almost daily from the Residency in Tetuan, urging me to stay at Kheiton, and to keep a strong hold of the tribes until the new Governor should arrive.

“Certainly this was necessary, for, on all sides, there were displeasing incidents as a result of a rumour that the foreigners would soon attack us. A man was killed within a few yards of Tetuan, and some Jews robbed in the open Suq. I sent a column to patrol the neighbourhood of the town, and warned the Beni Hosmar that my arm was still strong enough to punish. News came that bandits from Beni Gorfet had attacked a Spanish farm. The landlord had been killed, his goods stolen and his wife carried away as a captive. Immediately I sent a strong force to Khemis, demanding the release of the woman, but the Kaid was obdurate, for he hoped for a ransom. There was a fight, and his house was burned. While all men rushed to put out the flames, my soldiers saw some women running towards the hills, dragging one who went unwillingly. They pursued the party, and the women seized stones and earth to throw at them, abusing them for saving a Christian, but my troops took the Spaniard and brought her in safety to my camp.

“That is the first time a European woman had been my prisoner, though my house has always been at the disposal of your men! She was in rags, and I had none of my family with me, so I sent to Tazrut for clothes, and she dressed as an Arab. I had a tent pitched a little way off for her, and put soldiers to keep anyone from staring at her. I said to her, ‘You may go whenever you choose, and, if you tell me your destination, I will send an escort with you.’ My men recovered the half of the goats which had been stolen, and I told her the whole had been brought back, making up the number from my flocks. She stayed in camp for a few days, till she was no longer afraid, and then I sent her down to her people.

“There were many incidents of this sort, though the tribesmen concerned themselves only with men. Farmers were captured near Larache and forced to pay a tithe of their crops and their beasts before they were set at liberty, but, whenever this happened, I punished the offenders.

“There was a long gap between the death of Jordana and the appointment of a new High Commissioner. Nearly three months passed, and several times I wrote to Tetuan announcing my departure for the mountains, for the news from Madrid was disturbing, but each time I was held back with promises.

“At last[86] Berenguer came out as High Commissioner, and it was known at once that he wished to occupy the Jebala by force. He spread abroad that he would waste no time in making effective over the whole country the Protectorate with which Spain had charged herself, but when I sent my cousin, Mulai Sadiq, to greet him, he received him courteously. Ullah, thou wert deceived in him, son of my relative!” The old man protested indignantly—“He spoke affectionately to me, and told me that his one wish was to help all Moslems and to make the towns safe for trade. He said his mission was peaceful and that he wanted only to restore order in the districts where there had been trouble.” “So you wrote,” remarked the Sherif, “but Berenguer’s first message to me was a reproach that I had not welcomed him personally in the city. I replied, ‘Never will Raisuli be seen in Tetuan.’ Then he wrote to me by the son of Jordana, who put the matter politely, but it was not difficult to see what lay behind.

[Illustration: Door of mosque at Tetuan, where Raisuli’s ancestors are buried]

“I answered that letter with many pages, and I remember the words which a Badr ed Din wrote for me. The sense of them was thus: ‘You say that I have not served the interests of Spain, but do you not know of the innumerable battles I have fought for you, and all the difficulties and suspicions I have suffered on your behalf? It is not I who have caused the trouble in Morocco, but the indefinite policy of your Government which is always changing. How often have I been told one thing in the morning and another in the evening! How often has the Governor applied to Spain for a pressing remedy, and received nothing, because of the political commotion! You say I have not written to welcome you, but to do this was impossible after the injudicious actions of Barera. Have you not heard how the military commanders of your posts lose no opportunity of detaining the tribesmen in the cities, of interfering with their fields and their sowing, taking from them their money and leaving many wounded by blows and other injuries? This has been the situation for a long time, and I was so angry at the passive attitude adopted by your officials that, as a protest, I dismissed the two telephone engineers who were working at Ben Karrish in my zone. This was a sign to the tribes that political relations would soon be broken between your Government and mine.

“‘During the months before you came, I was instrumental in pacifying the tribes who would have risen to destroy your posts, but I told them that peace and tranquillity on our side must be unbroken, lest it should be said that war was the result of our actions. You say the root of your policy is your desire for peace and order. It would not appear thus, at least outwardly, for nothing is so true as actions which are unpremeditated. Since your arrival, incidents have been more frequent, and the offenders have not been punished. In proof, I will relate to you certain facts, and you will see that my silence was justified by the alarming news which was brought to me daily. Some of my labourers who were working at the edge of Beni Gorfet, in the vicinity of the Khotot, informed me that the chief of the military post at Tzenin had attacked them, taking away their herds, which were feeding peacefully in the stretch of grass, and had restored none of these, nor had they set at liberty the servants whom they had captured with the beasts.

“‘Tn Jebel Habib, artillery was employed against farms, not once but five times. Shells were dropped among the beasts, and it was impossible to continue the cultivation—all this because it was suspected that a soldier, who had deserted from the police, had passed through that country. The desertion of a policeman is not a strange thing. It occurs frequently, whether from your forces or mine, and it is impossible to avoid it. On the contrary, the use of cannon is a grave wrong, for it was agreed between the two parties[87] that artillery should not be employed against farms whose inhabitants were faithful to us and only wished to live in peace and security under our rule.

“‘On the same day Your Excellency was expected in Tzenin, coming from Sidi Laimani, the captains of the military posts at Maila and Tzenin set out with mixed forces to round up the peoples of Bedauin and the labourers of Beni Aros, all subjects of my jurisdiction. Your soldiers forced these men to leave their walls by weight of blows, killing even the dogs who barked at them as they passed, and not omitting to tear off the clothes which the tribesmen wore upon their shoulders. They drove them into the town and ordered them to make a crowd to receive the High Commissioner. This was done to show the large numbers of those who had submitted to Barera, a false action, because, if I ordered these tribesmen and these labourers to leave all their possessions and join me, not one of them would delay for a night. All those who escaped from Tzenin and would not wait for Your Excellency’s arrival, were forced to pay a fine.

“‘Another thing—the chief of the military post at Sania in the Garbia attacked, during the night, certain farms situated in Jebel Rik, near our own fort of Gahar Ru Gas. Your troops took away the cattle and left one herdsman dead and two wounded, and the village lost a great quantity of beasts, many of whom died from the wounds received from your rifles. After this, the soldiers laid hold of a Sherif, a relative of mine, who had been peacefully occupying himself with the care of his crops and his herds. They maltreated him, despoiled him of his clothes and took him away, naked. They still hold him a prisoner, without taking into consideration that the Sherif is a personage of renown and fame, known as a peaceful and prudent subject of great discretion.

“‘These and many other occurrences, deplorable and scandalous, occurred in your zone precisely when Your Excellency had established yourself in the Commissario.[88] Your officials have redoubled their campaign against my people, molesting them in every way, ill-treating them and giving as a reason that your jurisdiction extends over the whole country, without any difference between my subjects and yours. Added to this, there is the policy which Your Excellency is following with those of Anjera, who have always been against me and who were outlawed after the recent war, in which my forces fought by the side of your own. Your Excellency receives these traitors, appoints them as Sheikhs, and then attributes their nomination to Ben Azuz,[89] who, everyone knows, is your salaried captive, and who sits, like a blind man, with his mouth open, waiting for the charitable to come and drop food into it. It is the same thing with Ben Torres, who now promenades in his best silk clothes and would rule the Beni Hosmar. He forgets that, if it were not for my arms and my sentinels, he would not be able to wear such fine garments in security.

“‘Those who eat well and wear silk in Tetuan, who lie on soft carpets and have nothing to do but talk, spread lies about me. I live in a camp in the hills, with no comforts and no women. My foot is always ready for the stirrup, my finger for the trigger, watchful night and day, in spite of the illness Allah has sent me. I am too occupied with keeping peace in the mountains to have time to exchange words with them.

“‘It is the harder for me to put down disorder and revolt because of the conduct of Your Excellency. It is known that you are in communication with that worst of all devils, Darkan ben Sadiq, who leads a rebellious section of Gomara. It is even reported that, when Your Excellency next embarked for Melilla, you have promised to speak with him as you pass by the Bay of Targa, and will receive him, with various of his followers, in your boat. Your Excellency receives men who have no standing in the country, which surprises and flatters them, and you believe the things which they promise you, but which they have no power to realise. Do you not understand that these tribesmen of Anjera and Gomara were all severely punished by our troops and have steadily refused to live in peace with us, preferring brigandage and the capture of travellers? For this reason, my mehalla is still camped, one portion near Xauen and one on the sea coast.

“‘In your letter you say that the end we pursue is the same; but, under these circumstances, I can see no similarity in our objects. If Your Excellency decides to hold a conference with me, it is very necessary that Zugasti should be present, in order that there may be complete confidence between us. You refer to the full and ample powers which are vested in you, but Jordana said the same thing. I have now in my possession many letters written in such terms, yet nothing was definitely completed, since, as soon as a project was begun, it was abandoned.

“‘Even yesterday we heard the sound of cannon from the region of Ben Aros. The firing lasted from three to six, and I do not know yet what has happened. This cannot continue, if the people are to have faith in my protection and your word. There is no peace anywhere in the country, except in the town of Tetuan where men fight with their words. You know well that the wound made by the tongue is more serious than that caused by a sword. For this last there is a remedy, but for the first there is none. You know well that the wall of wickedness is very low, and to jump it is not necessary to have either wisdom or intelligence. The most stupid of beings and the most undecided can easily jump it, but the difficulty of all difficulties and the most arduous and the greatest, is to do good—such is the will of Allah, from whom are patience and resignation.’”

This letter from which Raisuli quotes is typical of his epistolary style, and it consists of between 6,000 and 7,000 words, as do most Arab screeds referring to any matters which the writer considers important. It still exists in the archives of the Spanish Government and is quoted at length in a recent work on Morocco.

Berenguer sent a frigid reply to the Sherif’s letter. Possibly he had in mind a not dissimilar list of Arab offences, for, at this period, there was a sort of guerilla warfare between the Spanish police posts and Raisuli’s irregulars. Attacks and reprisals may have been equally frequent on both sides. The High Commissioner wrote that his joy would be much greater on the day he received from Raisuli the spoken word rather than the written, but the Sherif knew that, if he once entered Tetuan, he would be obliged to acknowledge the authority of Mulai el Mehdi, so he remained in the hills and sent polite but somewhat equivocal messages. There was no further suggestion on his part of returning the Spanish munitions and guns. On the contrary, many innocent-looking caravans went up into the hills laden with stores and rifles for the Sherif. It is curious that Raisuli did not make a greater effort to meet the new High Commissioner, for, so far, his eloquence had served him at least as well as his mehallas. It is possible, judging only from Marina’s half-hearted campaigns and the little that Silvestre was allowed to do against him, that Raisuli underestimated the strength of any European Power, armed with the modern implements of war.

His reflections on the situation showed a surprising comprehension of Western politics. “The war in Europe had come to an end on the very day that Jordana died. Had he lived, I could have worked with him more sympathetically, for the need of keeping in touch with Germany was past. The friendship of Spain was more than ever necessary to me, for France had counted her graves and she looked to Africa to supply substitutes for her dead. If she makes another war, it will be with her Arab citizens, and their way to Europe will be through my country. It is easy to see that, and why the roads are not swept in Tangier and the filth lies piled before the houses! This is also the reason why Abdul Krim is never short of rifles and why he boasts that he has gunners and engineers. The French-trained Moors are helping him, just as they helped me against Berenguer.

“When I saw that war was necessary, I went to Ben Karrish to arrange for the defence of the road to Xauen. It was told me that Barera, whose courage was undoubted, had ridden from Tetuan by way of the Fondak and Suq el Khemis, to the plains. This was the first time a Spaniard had gone without my passport. I sent word to my mehalla to close the road, and to cut down the telegraph, which was the main communication between East and West; but I was determined that the first shots should come from Spain. No warning had been given me. One day there were letters passing between my camp and the Residency. The next, troops were disembarked at Alcazar-Seghir, and a march forced through Anjera with the help of those chiefs who had always been rebellious. My spies brought me news of one of these traitors, and I was able to catch him while he hastened to poison the villages against me. Ullah, his journey to the mountains was not comfortable, for they tied his hands to the stirrups of two riders, one hand to each, and dragged him in this manner across the country, and, when he clamoured, they spurred their horses apart till his arms cracked. He arrived at my camp half-dead, but he had enough time to recover before I let him go, for I demanded a large sum for his release, and, though the man of Anjera could not write his entreaties, I added them by means of an ear. Ullah, he was a bad Moslem, and deserved death!”

Perhaps Raisuli noticed my expressions, for he broke the thread of his discourse. “I will tell you a story,” he said. “Once a Spaniard sat in my tent and talked with me of matters that were very important. In the middle of our words, a slave came to me and whispered in my ear. I said to him, ‘Wait awhile,’ but he returned again and repeated his murmur. ‘If it is anything serious,’ said the Spaniard, ‘let us continue our conversation another time,’ but I answered, ‘It is of no importance. In a minute I will be at your service,’ and I whispered some directions to the slave, who said, ‘It is as the Sherif wills!’ and went away. ‘Forgive me,’ I said to my guest, ‘and let us finish our talk. I was only ordering a man 500 lashes, so it is not sufficient matter to disturb us.’ We continued our discussion concerning the policy of a certain tribe, but I observed that the Spaniard was nervous. He fidgeted and answered at random. At last I said to him, ‘Is anything the matter? It seems something troubles you,’ and he replied, ‘It is only that I cannot bear the cries of that man. Poor wretch! It is awful!’ I listened, and, certainly, the criminal had a strong voice, but presently it died away and my guest fixed his attention on his words.

“The slave returned after a while and said, ‘The will of my master has been carried out.’ I asked him, ‘Are you sure that you have given him the full number of lashes?’ and he answered, ‘I counted them myself, Sidi.’ ‘And the man lives?’ ‘He is very strong, Sidi.’ ‘Ullah, just give him another 500, to make sure. Perhaps, after all, you made a mistake.’ The Spaniard jumped up and protested. ‘This is abominable,’ he said. ‘Have you no mercy, no pity?’ ‘What do these words mean in your language?’ I asked, and he explained, while I listened attentively. ‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘if you were walking between hedges of cactus and the road was barred behind you, and if a very poisonous and dangerous snake came out in front of you, what would you do? Supposing there were a heavy stone at hand, but otherwise there was no way of escape, tell me what would you do?’ The Spaniard laughed. ‘I should thank heaven for the stone, and pray it to guide my aim!’ he exclaimed. ‘Would you not have mercy or pity on the snake? No? Nor shall I have pity on one who is worse than a snake. Go out, and ask my slave what that man has done, for such crimes are not talked about among Arabs.’ We sat in silence, but no cries reached our ears, and at last the slave entered. ‘We could not carry out your orders, Sidi,’ he whispered, ‘for the man died before the fourth hundred was completed.’”